


the other worlds do dream

by Reveille



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Selves, Dreambubbles, F/M, Gen, Lots Of Good Old Fashioned Utter Confusion, Other, Weird time stuff, good God this took a while
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-20
Updated: 2017-03-20
Packaged: 2018-10-06 04:50:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10325972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reveille/pseuds/Reveille
Summary: People meet under different circumstances, across different universes, in the dreambubbles.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [awespic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/awespic/gifts).



> @mod: sorry about the late! life got in the way with a terrible ferocity, and i lost the last ~1000 words to microsoft word and basically everything was a mess. but hey, it's up now!!
> 
> @recipient: i couldn't choose just ONE of your excellent prompts so i went ahead and combined them :> i sincerely hope it is to your liking!
> 
> @all readers: i hope you enjoy this story!

**Be Dave Strider.**  
Your phone buzzes insistently. Someone is trying to message you.  
apocalypseArisen [AA] began trolling turntechGodhead [TG]

AA: hello!  
TG: hey  
AA: i think its absurd i never introduced myself to you in all that time i spent moping around the lab  
AA: guess i wasnt in a very good mood  
AA: hi dave my names aradia

It’s probably some fan of one of your many incongruous websites. But this is a private chumhandle, and random fans have no business knowing your personal contact info.

  
Oh, no way this rando's six years old. And ~news flash~ saying that someone is “in a place very close to you” kinda gets them labeled as a stalker weirdo. Just fyi.

  
TG: only trolls say theyre six i dont know whats up with you and that dumb fake age  
AA: to be fair it translates to the same age as you which at the moment is 12 is it not  
TG: makes no sense bye  
AA: understanding disparities in the flow of time should be easy for people like us let alone understanding disparities in such pedestrian things as units  
AA: i am 6 sweeps old one sweep is a little more than 2 years you dummy!  
TG: cool story  
AA: look it is either the truth or i am just someone who is being a bit playful what is the harm in that  
TG: ok so 2=6 awesome joke hahahaha  
TG: or wait maybe it was just a waste of time  
TG: you people think im made of the stuff  
AA: :D

God trolls are so weird. At least the gray one is fun to annoy and the teal one has a fantastically terrible sense of humor. This one just seems oddly cheerful in a nonspecifically needling kind of way.

AA: i know you arent  
AA: but i am  
TG: what  
AA: maid of time  
AA: whereas you are the knight of the very same cosmic faculty  
AA: it would seem we have very little in common dave  
AA: when in fact we have very much  
TG: yeah  
TG: i think  
TG: im gonna shut off my phone now cya  
AA: yes  
AA: thats definitely what you did the first time we had this conversation  
AA: so i will wait patiently while you realize thats not what youre going to do this time

  
What.

  
_What._

  
You remember now- typing these exact words, at some point in the past. Except you’re typing them now, and you somehow remember the tracks of this entire conversation playing out before.

  
But now the troll- Aradia- is breaking from a script you hadn’t even realized you were following, and you’re just left with the sense that the world has just shifted on its axis or just stopped turning altogether.

  
You’re dreaming. That’s the only explanation. Except Aradia says you’re not dreaming, not quite, and in spite of yourself you look out the window to see if she is actually there.  
Predictably, she’s not.

  
AA: that iiis  
AA: becaaause  
AA: im not out there anymore!  
AA: turn around  
  
You turn very slowly around.

  
Facing you is a girl dressed in red wearing the sunniest smile you’ve ever seen. It takes you a moment to notice that – surprise surprise – she’s definitely not human, if the weird dark grey skin is anything to go by. Two ram's horns curl backwards on her skull. Her eyes glitter strangely, catching the stale lights of your room like a cat. And she's grinning at you like she’s about to tell you the best news of your life.

  
“Looks like you’re a fairy.”

  
“Yeah.” The smile doesn’t once leave her face.

  
“That’s cool.”

  
She doesn’t walk towards you so much as float, in an entirely unnecessarily ethereal manner. She doesn’t seem to be doing on purpose. Her hair floats around her face despite a complete absence of wind.

  
These – these aren’t the right clothes you're wearing. The record – wasn’t it slashed? How does that even happen. How do you mess up a logo without messing up a shirt. And you stopped wearing these anime shades ages ago. Those shades John got you for your birthday, you wear those now. You think.

  
For a solid few seconds you don’t notice that your clothes have shifted to match that mental image. Aradia's head is tilted to the side questioningly. Lousy stupid infuriating spirit angels guides. You’re pretty sure she knows exactly what’s going on here, she’s just trying to be cryptic on purpose.

  
“Try to remember,” she says. At some point, you’d started rambling about clothes and shades and general unhelpfulness. Oops.

  
“Wait. This isn’t the suit I was wearing either.”

  
You cycle through a soft red tux – no, not this one- to a hard-boiled black suit, and your memory starts coming back marginally. Sburb. You were playing Sburb. Are you dreaming? But then you’d be wearing your Derse pajamas, not these sweet duds, but – not this suit either-

Oh wait. This green monstrosity. Honestly what were you thinking when you alchemized this.

“I think it looks nice!” Aradia chimes in and oh god you have got to stop accidentally narrating your thoughts. No one needs to know the inner workings of Dave Strider. No one.

“I remember,” you say. The room around you spins dizzyingly and halts on the Land of Heat and Clockwork. “Terezi was helping me god tier. So does this mean it worked, or is this part of it somehow, or…”

Oh.

You look down at yourself.

A red stain spreads across the front of your tux, soaking the tie and lapel. Your fingers come away sticky. The strangest thing is, you don’t feel anything at all.

You remember now.

Aradia’s manic grin has softened, and she takes your hand. “Doomed selves do always get the short end of the stick. But on the bright side, the alpha timeline is no longer your concern!”

Her eyes are so lovely.

Your throat is paper dry. For once, your expansive vocabulary fails you. “So. Uh. What now?”

Aradia flutters a little into the air. “Whatever you want! Quite literally. These bubbles are quite versatile. You are free to do anything that may please you till paradox space ends our days.”

From anyone else, this sentence would sound hella ominous. But Aradia Megido is nothing if not a cheery death fangirl, it’s really kind of adorable? You should show her your taxidermy collection at some point, she’d love to see it.

Wait. Did she… ever tell you her last name? And you’re pretty sure she hadn’t said anything very… deathy since you first saw her just now. So why do you feel like somehow you recognize her from before?

(In hindsight, you probably should have realized this before. Normally people aren’t that chill with aliens just hanging around their apartment buildings. The sensible thing to do at that point would have been to call, like, Area 51 right that second. Immediately. Pronto. Inmediatemente.)

“This isn’t how it happened,” you say, at the same time as Aradia. The crazy grin is back on Aradia’s face. She claps excitedly.

“Oh, I’ve never been on the receiving end of a temporal screw up! So let’s figure this out, shall we?”

She flits over to the other side of the Quest Bed where you died. (You’re pretty sure you died there, but obviously your memories ain’t exactly a paragon of logic, causality,and honestly right now.)

Aradia appears to be very interested in the quest bed. She’s climbing all over it, tapping the stone like she thinks it'll reveal a secret compartment or something equally stupid. You cross your arms. “O creepy astral plane tour guide, lead my step and lay me to rest on the battlefield where I will mourn the loss of my ability to keep up with you. In other words. Just what are you trying to accomplish here.”

“Hush, silly!” she chides. “Now is no time to be impatient. But if you’re interested, I can provide the information in the form of a high school classroom lecture! I’m good at those.”

“Oh God please no. Anything but that.”

“Too late!” she sings out, and suddenly there is a giant chalkboard all up in your face, and Aradia has somehow managed to change her god tier wings into a graduation gown.

Does she actually know that teachers don’t wear those hats? For that matter, why do so many drawings of college professors have them wearing graduation caps? They’re not the ones graduating.

….Train of thought got derailed again. Blown so utterly off the tracks it’s now halfway to Mississippi and sixty feet in the air.

Aradia claps, and you reflexively snap to attention. She points a long road at the chalkboard where she’s scribbled something nigh unintelligible.

”We,” she says, “are definitely in some kind of dream bubble, because time can be manipulated more easily here. Can you feel it?”

Yeah. You can feel the difference. Here it feels as though if you lose your grip on Time, it’ll just slip through your fingers.

“I don’t see what that has to do with anything though. Also what the heck is a dreambubble. That sounds like a word that an idiot made up while on like five levels of tripping.”

She points her rod at you sternly. “I think you’ve upset the dreambubble. They have very delicate feelings, you know. Comes with being very easily poppable. You should apologize.”

“Apologize. To a bubble.”

“Yes. It is very offended.”

You can’t even tell whether she’s joking or not. In the end you sort of look up at the black, spark filled sky and say, “My deepest apologies, Sir Bubble. I had no idea I’d offended you so badly, I would never do it on purpose.”

Aradia nods, apparently satisfied, and turns back to the chalkboard. “Here I’m diagramming what we remember between us. So do you remember anything that will help us understand why we’re here?”

“Not really,” you say, and just as you say it, you frown. “Didn’t you introduce me to the weird rapper one the first time?”

“Who?” she looks confused. Then recognition dawns on her face and she snaps her fingers. “Tavros!”

“Yeah. My sick fires ghost mate 4 lyfe. Him.”

“Okay, now we’re getting somewhere!” She scrawls something else on the board. “And I remember godtiering, and going to the dreambubbles to help out the ghosts, which is obviously the first time we met. But how’d we meet after? I think I went to the Green Sun, and Sollux was with me, but-”

“Hold on,” you say, suddenly dizzy. “Did you say the Green Sun?”

You look down at your green felt suit, stained with red. As you watch, your clothes blur and shift, settling into a red shirt emblazoned with a gear symbol, with pants and a cape to match. The LoHaC landscape around you fades to black.

…Oh.  
Now you know _which_ Dave you are.

Aradia recovers from her shock quickly. “If you’re the alpha Dave, and we’re stuck in the dreambubbles, that means we have no time to waste!” She grabs your arm as you both float in the dark expanse, and tugs you in some direction you can’t see.

Though you may know now that you’re from the alpha timeline, you have no idea how you ended up here, of all places. “Why is there no time to waste? I thought you were made of it.”

She ignores your pun. The audacity. “Because I remember what happened! And she’s going to need your help right about now. Time doesn’t flow correctly here, so from our perspective she just now got stuck! And I have to go bail out the others.”

She gently touches your face with her fingertips. “Stay safe for me, ok?”

You’re too stunned to ask just what the heck she means, but a second later it doesn’t matter, because suddenly she lets go, and you're floating away like you’re in some terrible remake of Gravity. You see her figure in the dim lightening grey. Her hand is raised in a V like a peace sign.

Or half of a diamond.

On impulse, you raise the same symbol back to her, and even at a distance her smile lights her entire face.

It's the last thing you see before everything fades to white.

\---

  
**Be Terezi Pyrope.**

You wake up.

For a dizzying moment you’re not sure where you are. Vertigo hits, pulls away; you right yourself in the ‘coon. The moons' light glows faintly through the window of your treehouse, and even that familiar watermelon fusion smell feels strange.

Alternia. You’re on Alternia.

(Of course. Why wouldn’t you be?)

A deep breath draws the forest air over your tongue. The night promises a storm, a stone-wet taste that crackles with electricity. You'll have to hurry if you want to beat the weather to work.

Ignoring the niggling feeling that something is slightly _off_ , you shrug on your legislacerator uniform, creatively emblazoned with your sign in the front. The red sings loud and bright, and you fail to resist the urge to lick the glove.

(Just a little bit. No one has to know. The cherry red is just too delicious. This is your only vice.)

Feeling marginally better, you swing down from a rope rather than take the ladder- it looks so much cooler anyways. The nearest transportalizer is a few miles away, nearer to the city. You suppose it would be a scary walk if you could see.

At any rate, you can almost taste the lightning now. You hasten in the general direction of away from the forest. Maybe talking a walk in a forest with tons of lightning-rod tall trees right before an electric storm was not one of your better decisions. You can hear your old training instructor's scorn: _Shape up, cadet. You’re gonna havta make good snap judgements if you’re ever gonna make it up top._

 _Shut up, Official Travin_ , you think. God, you hated that man.

  
You make it out of the trees just as the first bolt of lightning strikes. Yikes. Close call.

Decidedly unnerved, you continue on.

\---

  
The boss is smoking a pipe in his chair, filling the room with black smoke without any regard for certain people relying on senses other than sight. He’s a blue blood with a supercilious attitude and _jegus_ you wish they’d move him to another department already. His voice grates on your nerves.

“You’re late, Legislacerator Pyrope,” he drawls. “Again.”

You grit your teeth. “Sorry, sir. Won’t happen again, sir.”

He waves a hand impatiently. “Right, yes. Anyways. You’ve got a new partner today.”

You blink. No one said anything about reassignment today.

“Sollux Captor. Smart kid. Smart mouth. He’s a psionics user and a hacker type, might be able to help you with this next case we’ve got. “

 _Sollux!_ You remember a gangly, sullen six sweep old with an odd knack for computers. You remember appleberry steel determination written like code into his mainframe and that sweet warm baking-bread smell you’ve come to associate with friendship. But you were certain he would have been conscripted to work as a helmsman in Her Imperious Condescension's ships by now. A psionic of his caliber would not have easily been ignored by the Empire's finest.

The boss is talking again. “-So, I’ll leave you two to get acquainted, then we'll put you on a case. Please, do try not to mess it up.”

“Yessir.” You decide it isn’t worth mentioning that not in all your sweeps of service have you _ever_ mucked up a case. When he gets up to leave, a fresh cloud of acrid smoke billows upward and turns everything dark and bitter. Ha. Just like your soul.

But then none of that matters because _Sollux Captor himself_ is walking in, hands tucked in his pockets, dressed simply in a T-shirt and jeans, red and blue glasses perched on his nose. The air crackles around him with ozone. He stops short as he sees you. Then, awkwardly: “Uh, hi.”

  
You grin. “Why, Mister Captor, it has been _far_ too long!”

You practically launch yourself at him for a hug. He’s still stick skinny, as tall as you are short, and though he stiffens slightly, he leans into the hug as well.

When you break apart, you say, “But I thought you’d been conscripted long ago. You were always going on about your doomed fate and whatnot-”

“Yeah, about that.” His mouth twitches. “I’ve been off the grid for a while. Supposedly they wanted me for some big shot violetblood's speeder ship. To be honest, he was a complete tool, so I just walked out. Wasn’t hard. His security was terrible.” He plays it off as nothing, but you know him well enough to hear the note of pride in his voice.

You grin. “I guess we better go see what case we’re on today. Oh, yesssss. The Neophyte Legislacerator and her sidekick Flashy Appleberry!”

“What do you mean _sidekick_?”

You argue the point all the way to the assignment office.

\---

  
Your good mood turns grim as soon as the sheaf of papers detailing your case is dropped in front of you without ceremony. The briefing officer's face is drawn and set in a hard line, and she’s rapping her knuckles against the desk with poorly concealed impatience. You know from experience that she thinks this is gonna be, in her words, a toughie. But today you have Sollux by your side, and that could make all the difference in the world.

“There’s been a disturbance in the west sector, near the 59th settlement. A few missing folks, reports of a sighting of – did the kid call it a cryptid? Anyways, we will need you two to check it out and report back. No funny business, Pyrope. You’re already on probation.”

Sollux side eyes you in surprise. “Probation? What did you do?”

Before you can answer, the briefing officer says, “Legislacerator Pyrope decided to take some matters into her own, _highly capable_ hands, with little regard for the orders of the higher ups. And she would remember well to never try and attempt something like that again.”

You nod blandly, but inside a furious voice is saying _I’d like to see you try and stop me._

That’s been happening more and more often these days. You used to idolize these people, followed their word right down to the letter. You soon figured out that very few in this miserable establishment have any regard for the pursuit of justice, and the few who do- the briefing officer included- are so supercilious in their manner that you can’t help disliking them. It's just your bad luck that the one time you tried to follow your own instincts, it ended up with several million boondollars in property damage and the escape of the object of your wrath.

You think you’ll start tearing your hair out if you have to put up with any more of this.

You sneak a glance (ha) at Sollux. He's jittery, keeps casting furtive looks at the door like he can’t wait to escape this stupid place. Unlike you, Sollux never took well to anyone telling him what to do, not even as a kid. If he starts throwing off sparks it might start an electrical fire, so you cut the briefing short – _yes of course we’ll read the files yes I’m fully aware that I’m blind we know what we’re doing ma'am no we don’t need a more experienced officer on the scene we can manage on our own thank you_ – and drag Sollux behind you out the door. Your fists don’t unclench till you’re both on an enforcement speeder and well on your way towards the west sector transportalizer.

Sollux side eyes you. He’s been doing that a lot lately. His psionics play up when he’s distracted, and static is starting to stick your hair on end.

Finally, you cross your arms and face him- no easy task on a speeder. “Is there a problem?”

He seems surprised. “What? No, I was just-”

 _You have reached your destination_ , a cool robotic voice intones, and the seat ejects you both before you can finish your thought. Sollux catches himself with psionics, but for you this means an undignified scrabble for purchase on a rough concrete floor while trying not to skewer yourself with a blade.

When you scramble upwards, Sollux is laughing, an entirely unfettered sound that’s raspy and grating but still makes your bloodpusher sing happily.

You believe that this is what those in the business (hi, Nepeta) call “oh dear stars you are so pale for this nerd you don’t know what to do with yourself.” When did that happen, that you became so fond of him?

Sollux finally gets his laughter under enough control to offer you a hand over to the transportalizer, which is just as well because for two whole seconds you sort of forgot what you’re here for.

You grin. “Why, Mr. Captor, I do believe you just got taken out of the running for grouchiest mustard boy on the whole planet!”

“Don’t push your luck,” he says, trying to scowl, but the smile is still in his voice.

You know the situation is bad once you arrive.

The area is deserted and desolate, doors hanging off their hinges and walls crumbling away to dust that shifts in the sluggish summery wind. It looks (smells) like the sector's been empty for four sweeps, not four days.

  
“Whoa,” Sollux breathes. “This is way worse than just a ‘disturbance.’”

  
“What manner of ungodly creature could have done this?” you murmur. You sniff the air. Everything is coated with a thin gray layer of dust, making it harder for you to pick out individual scents. When you inhale deeply in the westward direction, you smell something startlingly odd. It feels more like an _absence_ than anything else- like a black hole suddenly became tangible.

“That way,” you decide. “It feels the most dangerous.”

“Well, I’m so glad we have a good sense of self preservation,” Sollux says dryly. You set off through the ruined buildings, tugging him along behind you.

You’re not really sure what you’re looking for- a lead, a clue, anything that might help you understand what happened. There is nothing in the buildings, no trace of people, no signs of a struggle. You have only that sense of black to guide you.

As you go on, the buildings seem to thin out, replaced by desert sands and dunes. The moons' light glitters on the sand, turning it to jewels underfoot. Everything seems fairly normal, if unnaturally silent. There’s not even a breath of wind.

The strange emptiness you felt earlier now presses on your bones like foreboding. You're not usually frightened of many things, but you can muster only dread for this mission. Something that can pick an entire sector clean in days is not something you want to tangle with.

Sollux snorts. “Right now, you look kind of like a barkbeast sniffing the air.”

“I would not be a barkbeast,” you reply with dignity. “More like a yipbeast, if anything. Cunning and wily! They are creatures of intelligence.” And, because you are the best troll at annoying people on this entire planet, you start humming “What Does the Yipbeast Say?”

Sollux covers his double lobed ears. “Please. I’ll do anything. Just please let that godawful song die, I’m begging you here.”

You cackle. “Aha! I have found your weakness!’”

(It occurs to you that Sollux is trying to take your mind off the task at hand. That usually never works, but then again, when has Sollux paid attention to probability? Jegus you are a pale mess.)

You trudge on through the dust, and the sky lightens as time wears on. You have sun-protective gear equipped in your uniform, but Sollux, who adamantly refused the suit, has no such guard against the Alternian day. You both will have to hurry to make it before dawn breaks.

Suddenly the emptiness flares in your senses, and you stop in your tracks. You grip Sollux's hand impulsively. “I think we’re here,” you whisper.

Together, you look up at the sky. Or rather, the sudden lack thereof. From Sollux's sharp intake of breath, you know you've guessed right.

“What’s it look like up there, Sollux?” You force some lightness into your tone.

“Um…it looks like a hole in the sky, kind of. Like someone ripped it.”

For the first time, you realize that the two of you may be in over your heads here. _Well, good!_ Things were getting boring at the legislacerator office anyways.

That’s when _it_ appears.

All you can smell is a roiling mess of black licorice the size of a house, coiling and undulating as it hisses at you and Sollux. As far as you can figure, it fell out of the hole in the sky. Sollux's hand ignites with red and blue fire, ready to fight, but you squeeze his hand warningly. "Let's try and talk first."

"You think this thing's gonna want to  _talk?"_ he says dubiously, but you make the executive decision to ignore him. You step forward, projecting more confidence than you feel.

"Sir! Or ma'am, or whatever gender neutral identification you may prefer! You are trespassing on the property of the-" you can't bring yourself to call it the Condesce's empire- "the property of the troll race hailing from Alternia! You have the option of either leaving this world in peace, or I may direct you to our interspecies diplomacy department. Either way, I suggest you make your decision with haste."

The thing regards you with multiple baleful eyes. Its tentacles flare outwards, making it appear ten times bigger. Sollux is throwing off sparks again, and you do your best to ignore the delicious flashes of red and blue.

"L͔̤̳̯̳͕̮i̬͟t̲̱̮̺̼̖t͎͙l̵͍͕̞̮e͢ ̺̼̲̖P͖͇͖ͅr̢̯̲͎o͖̹s͇͎p̮i̴̖͕̣̤̫͍t̟͉̱̼͍̝ͅ-̦̞s̀p̨̬̺̰aw̜̞͎̖n̬̺̦̬e̫͕̝̜̜̭ͅd̪̬̥̞̖ͅ," the creature rumbles. "W̹̯̥ẹ̬̠ ͓̘̹̤̟̹h̺̝̹̖͎à̼͍̗̘v̟͔̝̰̘̹̫e ̲͉̞̦͡n͏̝̝̹͉̻o͔ ̟̻̩͓͎͚̻q̪͈̥̺̟̝u͘a̲ͅr̪͉̹r̡̩ͅḙ̛͈̠̫̬ḻ͓̲̘̩̰͠ ̵̭͔̮͈w̛̤̘ì̼̩̞͍͈̳̖t̪̻͟h̭̫͍̩͡ ̪̳̲̩͢ỵ͚̳̞̤͉o̯̠͔̻͓̣u͔͢.̤̀ ̶̝̪̬̻ͅB̙̣̭̮̘̮̲u̫̪̭̪͍t̷̤̻͍͖ ̷̥̹̼̻̰i̗̠̩̗̜̜f͕͕̳͉́ͅͅ ̮̖̝̻͚̳̤y͍̘͈̙̩o̻̟̫̻̩̙͠u̠̖͢ ̳̞͇a̞n̥̰͇̦̠͓͝d̬̟̲̟̻̝ ͚͚̲y̱͠o͓̜͕̜͉̜̕u̳̺̟r͕̝͡ ͍̙̫̩̜̠f̵̖̯͓ri͕̞̱ḙ̦͠n̻̺̻̲d ̷̜̖͈̣͍͔h͉͚̖̻̟͚è͖̫̖̩r̘͈e̼͖̙͍̹͇̮͡ ̸̥͔̞̮̳ch̩̮̹̰͇̘̗͡o͇̥͢o̪s͔e͕̺ ͍t̟o ͓̯̗͓̤͡a͏g̥̪̕g̦̪͟r̨̙̦̗i̟͟ḛ̴v̮͎̬e̼ u̢s̥,̨ ̪̫̻̺̟ẉ̻̗̺̲̣͡e̼̮̘ ̖̲̤̰̙̹̝w҉͍̣̖̠͕͓̟i̹̣̪̻̯̜lļ̲̘̘̪ ̬̰̭̕D̛̠ES̗͈T̡̪̜R̨͚̠̫͓O̺Y̠ ͖̮̱̘̜Ỳ͈͖͙O͎̭̗͉Ṳ̰̪̥͙ ̺á̖͔͚ṇ̱͕̜͉̕d̤̦̫͇͈͕̦ D̩͓̗E̠͉͜ST̘̗͕̥͜ͅR͢O͏̩͎͎̳̩͉Y̫̹̭̦ ̻̬̪͈̜̣T̬͕̼̘̝̺͞ͅH̯̝̰̮̩̝̯I̖̗S̖͖͜ ̳̝̞̤̝ͅB̩̩U̶̗͚̠̘ͅB̶̘B̦̫̮̭̣͘L͏̹͈͎͓E̜͉̦̟͖͎͠.̶̙̫̰"

"What do you mean, Prospit-spawned?" Sollux demands.

"And what do you mean, destroy this bubble?" You have a hand on your canesword already. If things start to go south...

But the thing is  _laughing,_ a terrible sound like a thousand knives scraping over each other. "Y̯͓̞͟ͅo̙̥u͖ ̲̭̙͔͈͜d͉o̼̞͇ ͓̪͠n͚̥̦̱͇͖̻ơ̲͔̗̹̤t̶ ̦̫͓̱̜̝͖͘k̦͔͎̖n͏̻̻̦̗͔ọ̩̣̳̼̗̜w̴͍̘̩̠?̦̗͜" it says, voice full of mirth.  ҉"O̞͉̤͚̠͞ḫ,̞͖͇͉̞ ͕̜̩͍̠̩b̵͕͇͎͈̮u̸͉̝t̸̹̜̩̟ͅ ̡̭͚͍̖̦t͔͚̻̠͡ḩi͙̬̰͞s̵̪͕ ̨į̬̖̺̻͈ͅͅs̫̞̬̮͎͚̯ ̦̤͇͔̣r̴̤̠͙͉̳i̜̮̥̪c̳͈̳̲h̻͕̞̫͠ ͔̯̯i̦̝͙̥̥̯̟n͍̱͚̬͕d̫͟e͓̺͕e̱̤d̷̦̫!͈̗̞͝ ̛̤̙͉ͅT̲̠̜̣̰̻̥h̵̖̙̱ͅe̴̲ ̪̠̺̩ͅͅá̹̦͈̺l͙͈͔̗̬͠p̨̺̙̪̞̜h͏̺̬̘̜̯̻̖a͖̥̠̭s͍͇ ̙͕͓̫o͓͜f̹̱͚̙ ͞th̪e͓̝͙ ̹͖t͎̱̣̤i̘͔̰̳̟̝̞m͔̪ͅel҉̟͇̯̣̼̲i̲͇ṋ̡e,͖̠́ ̯̘͈̖̥̼̗t̡h͔̟̲͍̳̩e̡͙͎̖͙̰ͅ ̦͕̼͞o̻͓̯n͕̜̹̳l̥͍y ̷͙͍̼h̲̺̲͉͎o̹͝p̳̦̤e̪̬̹̱s̸ f͙̙͇or̛̰̻̖ͅ ̜͇͢S̘̼̳ͅka͖͠i͕̱̭̹̼a̵̞̻͈'͇͓̘̜̗̖͓ś̱͎̮̱͚̮̤ ̴̩͖̝̹s̙͖͜u҉̭͍̥͚̘ͅc͚͎̖͔̩̖̻c̯̮͓̬̖͓e̵̥̲̝s̮̝͉̫̗s̭̫̝̘̳,͚̬̱͎͓͡ ̴d̦͎̬̹͓̘͇o̘̜̕i͙̻̦̮̻͕n͎̺̺͈͔̫̺g ̗̥̲͎m̡̫e̷͔̘̣͉nị͕̩͕͖a̯̟̥̹͔̗͢ĺ͕̠̹̞ ̫̣̟̯͉̝w̢͖̺̝̹̙͖̪ǫ̖͚̝͔̝̻r̨͙̙̪̩̪k̬͈̝̙ ͍̞͚͚̼̘͈f̺͞ͅo̵̱ŕ̭̰ ̳͡gh̨̠͚̩̫͇͉o̠̫̖s̪̱̕t̡̠̥͖̲͙ͅs͉͇̻͙̫͘!͉͍ ̠͉I̧͍͓͕͉ͅ ̼̥̳̱̰̲̺w̪͘i̢̪̙̺̘̰̱l͍̗͈͈̹͚l̞̬̤̲̟͝ e̩̬̕n͍̙̲̬j̶̤̙̤o̪͔͙̳̩y̬͙͘ ̼̯̺̠͍t̺̀h̘̲͙͍̻̱͟i̙̳̬̩̦͘s̴̗̥͇ ͠i̜̩̤͇m̼͚̺͖͉̗͟m͖̤͈̪ͅe̯͈n͍͙̣̠ṣ̫̦̜̕e̳͖̫͓͈̙͡l̮͈̤̝̦̥ỵ̪̟́.̬̝͍̭̖ͅ"

"Sollux, do you have any idea what it means?" you turn to ask him, but he doesn't seem to hear you. He's removed his shades, and he's staring directly at the spot where you know the hole in the sky is.

You lift your head to take a great whiff of the sky. You focus on the void, straining all your senses toward it, till you can almost see every speck of color.

And you smell Skaia.

Memory comes crashing back to you like a wave. You are Terezi Pyrope, aged six and a half sweeps. A few months ago, you played a game that destroyed your world. And the game gave you bubbles where you could see not just memories, but even futures that never were.

This is your life, if you had never played Sgrub.

You're still a little hazy on exactly how you and Sollux ended up in a dreambubble - even more baffled by the fact that you now remember an entire alternate life - but for once your mind is clear.

When you turn to Sollux, he looks glassy-eyed but steely. "My friend," you say lightly, "did you too just now receive a planet-shattering revelation that basically means that our entire lives are a lie?"

"I've doubled up on everything before," he says wryly. "Why not double lives? 

You turn back towards the creature - towards the Horrorterror - that is now hissing ominously at you. "You see, good sir Horrorterror, if there's one thing I learned through this giant fiasco, it's about justice. I learned that  _in charge_ doesn't necessarily mean  _right,_ and I learned that justice is about doing what you  _know_ is right."

The creature is still shaking like jello with laughter. "A̵̗̺ͅn̞̥͙ḓ̬̞̭͓?̵̙͎ ̣͈̖W͔͖̬̣͔̩̭h͚̳a̤t̢̯̤̩̖͖͚̼ ̩̣̼d̞̗͙͕͓͎̳o̙̹e̴̘̞̘̟̣͙s ̥͉̞͚́y̖̦̪͎̱̟̩o̲͎̣̗͎̖͈u̮̩̙͇̜r̯̞͚̣͈͉̳͝ ̙̳̫̗M̰̼͉͕̣͈i͎͉̝̗̭̣̭n̙̠ͅd̳̖͕ ̹̮͓̘̮͍̻t̠͈̘͓͚̟̭e̙̱̗̣͓̦͉l̴͓͖̮̦̭̲l ̷̣y̞̮̩͕͉͔o̩͓̖͍̮̹u̖̼͜ ͙̝͕̪͝i͚ͅș̮͓͖ ͏̭̙̤͔͙r̵̙i̱̜͖̻g͝ḫ̖t̤͓̠̙,̜ ̫̰̻͘li̝͉͡ṱ̖͙͎̖̀t̥̖̬̮́le ̟͍m̴̲̼̲or͏t͖̰͝ͅͅą͙̯͔l̡̖̗͕̼̺ͅ?͇͕̪̜"

You step forward, unsheathing the canesword.

"I also learned that I do not like it when people - or giant tendril monsters - believe in their own  _superiority."_

"I'm getting really tired of that thing's voice," Sollux mutters.

As one, you charge.

  
**Days in the past…**  
**But not many.**

At the speeds the meteor is hurtling through this dark void, the wind howls across the surface, skimming crater rims and kicking up dust, thrumming a low moan through the tunnels closest to the outside. The walls shake as you see Rose stumble around a corner, holding on to a rail for support, arm wrapped around Kanaya. Lilac and sage mingle agreeably in your nostrils. Unfortunately, you are a little too busy getting smacked around by physics to appreciate the smell fully.

“Terezi?” Rose has to raise her voice to be heard over the shaking. “What’s going on?”

You right yourself against the wall with some difficulty as the floor continues to tremble. Kanaya steadies you with a hand. “Where is everyone else?”

“Dave and Karkat were in the commons with the Mayor. I’m not sure about the others!”

The meteor suddenly lurches, and a section of the ceiling falls just feet away from where you're standing. You trade a horrified glance with Rose before all three of you abscond right the heck out of there. You bound up the stairs following Kanaya's bouquet of colors, pausing only to make sure that the ground you stand on is safe.

You burst onto the surface, which you _still_ don’t understand because no one should be able to breathe without an atmosphere, yet somehow despite existing in a vacuum, all of you can breathe fine. Sgrub/Sburb mindscrewery, most likely. The meteor is still shuddering like it’s about to fall apart, which is Probably Not A Good Thing.

A starburst of rust and mustard, and suddenly Aradia and Sollux wink into existence midair in a flash of time magic. How did they make it all the way out here? You left them at the Green Sun! They tumble from the air, stumbling on rock, and Sollux pulls Aradia upright.

"You guys!" Aradia yells. "This route is destabilizing! Time is cracking around our path. I'm going to need to get us out of this corner of space!"

"How're you going to do that?" Rose says. Her hair whips around her face, and she digs her feet into the stone.

"The bubbles!" Aradia says. "If I can get some of you to go chart through the dreambubbles, I can do a little course correction. Where's Dave?"

"Here," says Dave from behind you. He's got a grip on Karkat's arm, and they're both struggling to stay upright in the wind. "Whatcha need?"

"We're going to-"

Apparently whatever Aradia needs to say will have to take a rain check, because suddenly a particularly strong gust of wind slams into the meteor, and like half of your crew lose their balance, you included. You're thrown ten feet clean off the meteor, but one wildly grasping hand manages to grab hold of a strut on the building complex.

You can't pull yourself over. This is a disappointing end to the story of Terezi Pyrope.

Your fingers give, one by one. Pinky. Ring. Middle. It's just your index and thumb holding you now.

Just as those brave, enduring fingers finally give out, you hear Sollux's distant shout. "I'll see you on the other side!"

And then you're flung through the darkness, spinning wildly out of control, watching the purple light of a bubble grow brighter and brighter and brighter....

 

\---

  
**Be Rose Lalonde.**

  
You have a book signing tour today.

Ugh.

You woke up today with a head that felt stuffed with cotton. Really all you want to do today is lounge around in your house, maybe watch a movie, read a good fanfiction while you sip tea. In luxurious slippers. Yeah, that sounds nice.

You leave for Seattle in about 3 hours. You debate the merits and drawbacks of simply canceling the tour – it’s not like it would hurt sales that much- and slide onto the perfect satin couch in the living room. Yes, you do so love seeing your fans, but some days you just need time to, as Dave would put it, chill.

Speaking of Dave, he’s trying to message you.

TG: hey  
TG: rose  
TG: you there fam  
TG: wow ok too pretentious for the rest of us plebs jeez i see how it is  
TT: Clam down, Dave. I just didn’t have my phone on me. We don’t all have our thumbs glued to our electronic devices at all times.  
TT: *calm  
TG: clam  
TG: shoot rose youve been hacked by the batterwitch havent you  
TG: i now stand alone against the fish lady and her terrifying eldritch protégé  
TG: we have a climactic battle over lava  
TG: its over rose  
TG: i have the high ground  
TT: Dave, I have such a headache right now and I think I’m getting sick, so please excuse me if I don’t really engage in comic text shenanigans right now.  
TG: o shoot really  
TG: you need me to pop over  
TG: make chicken broth or something  
TG: i make a mean chicken broth  
TG: plus im literally in the neighborhood right now  
TG: was at this movie convention but got bored pretty fast so i cut and ran  
TT: That’s nice, of you, but I don’t think that will be necessary.  
TG: too late omw

…Okay, then.

Honestly, it’s pretty sweet that he’d drop everything to come see you like that. You neglected to tell him, however, that a simple cold is the least of your troubles right now.

Lately, you’ve been having some extremely messed up dreams. You dream about being thirteen years old and playing a game, even though when you were thirteen no one really had laptops or PC gaming. That by itself is kind of mundane, but it’s what happens afterwards that always haunts you.  
It’s like seeing Cthulhu and all his friends come to life. These creatures are unnaturally twisted and angled, and they worm their way into your brain with promises  _we can help you rose we can be your tanglebuddies let's all be T̟̫̕AN̺̱̬̦G͙͓̟̩͡L̀E̺̰̙̯B̢̬͕͓ͅƯ͍D̺D̯̕I̠̥̥͚̖E̛̮͙̭͔̞͇S͔͕_

Thirteen year old you enters their fold, steps into their darkness. And only terror follows.

 _Ding dong,_ followed by a quick rap on the door. It is your knight in shining armor himself, Dave Strider, movie director, irony extraordinaire. You open the door and nearly dissolve into giggles right there.

"Hi, Rose," Dave says, completely straight faced. Dave appears to have brought his entire medicine cabinet plus a cup of ramen. And he's wearing this absolutely ridiculous nurse's cap.

Oh, this endearing idiot.

You usher him inside with only a casual glance around for surveillance. Usually the Batterwitch has you pretty much on lockdown wherever you go, but this latest apartment complex has escaped her notice, at least for now. Except- she would definitely notice Dave coming here, so you should probably move around a few houses in the coming weeks just to be safe. 

After a few necessary precautions (locking all the doors, closing the blinds with blackout curtains, the like), you ease into your chair and he flops down on the couch. Despite how much you enjoy your verbal repartee, your favorite part of hanging out with Dave is this comfortable silence. He seems to know exactly when you're feeling contemplative, and just put on a movie or something for the two of you to enjoy.

Today, he puts on _Star Wars_. Well, you guess it's a classic, even though you're not one for sci-fi in general; you much prefer fantasy. And since your future vision spoiled the ending of Episode 7 long ago, you are going to enjoy watching young Harrison Ford, Carrie Fisher, and Mark Hamill for as long as you can.

Dave rests his feet on the coffee table. "Manners," you murmur distractedly.

"Hey, su casa, mi casa, right? Especially since, like, we could literally die any day now, if the Batterwitch gets tired of us. Yolo and all that."

"Yolo indeed. Just be prepared to wipe the table with an extreme amount of Windex later. I don't want to know what your feet smell like."

Right now, you're attempting to draft a letter to Roxy in your head, addressed to her on her 8th birthday. Hopefully, she'll find it and read it later. You can't muster the energy to write it right now, but that's fine- she won't read it till around 400 years in the future anyways. You're writing a letter to your daughter who doesn't exist yet and will be brought by a meteor to postapocalyptic Earth in 400 years. Yeah, your life is  _kinda_ messed up.

Dave, rather than writing letters to Dirk, keeps a vlog. Dirk too will be dropped on a flooded Earth in the future alongside Roxy, years after the last humans are gone and the  _Batterwitch_ has completed her devastation of the planet. You are under no illusions of ever meeting your paradox children - nor will you ever understand how exactly that came about - but the least you can do is give them something to remember you by when everything else is gone.

But right now, you're just chilling and watching  _Star Wars,_ not worrying about the eventual fate of kids that you have never met but have foreseen with your Sight. Yeah. Just chilling.

Except Dave sounds vaguely distracted by something, even as he keeps a running commentary on _Return of the Jedi_. He's only made two (2) comments about how utterly pointless it seems to have a second movie about Death Stars, despite his average being around seven by this point in the movie.

You nudge him, "Dave, is there something bothering you?"

He seems conflicted about something. He blurts out, "I had this really weird dream last night."

...Usually it takes a lot more than that to coax information out of him. This must have been a pretty significant dream.

You scoot your chair over. When you were younger and still quoted the works of Sigmund Freud, you might have taken this opportunity to psychoanalyze. But you are older and wiser, so you patiently wait for him to volunteer any information he wishes to offer.

He doesn't seem to know where to start, so you prompt him. "So did it seem like, a normal weird dream, or was it _weird_ weird?"

He scoffs. "And you call yourself a writer."

"Hey, I don't always have time to sound like a thesaurus. Where did the dream start?" 

And he explains about weird fairies and time and alternate selves in a planet of lava. If it were a story, you'd call it ridiculously self-involved with a fairly useless plot twist. But the planet of lava...you think you recognize the place he describes.

You have visited there several times as you dream. The Land of Heat and Clockwork.

"Dave," you say, voice betraying none of your rolling emotions. "I believe that I've seen the place in this dream before. You don't suppose it was prophetic, or...?"

"Nah, nothing like that. But I'm thinking. If you saw it too, do you think your Sight might help you out? To figure out what it means."

Your Sight. An extremely finicky scrying and future telling ability. It showed you how and where the revolution would begin, rise, and wither. It showed you Roxy and Dirk, children of the  world after the fall. So maybe it could help you to figure out your dreams and Dave's once and for all. And one look into Dave's hopeful face and you don't think you can deny him anything.

"Okay. I'll try."

You kick back on your chair and attempt to relax, sending your senses out to nudge the world beyond you. Everything is foggy at first, but then the fog coalesces to staticky interference, and you're pretty surethat something isn't right here.

A second later you're  _certain_ that something isn't right, because Dave winks into existence right next to you.  _In the Light equivalent of an astral plane._

"Dave. What are you doing here exactly."

"Dang, fam. Good to see you too."

"We literally saw each other five seconds ago, idiot. And you're  _not supposed to be here."_

He just shrugs. "Dude, since when have I ever listened to the laws of reality. And before you ask, no I didn't actually  _ask_ to follow you into whatever useless out-of-range radio station static type bs we both just landed in. I was just watching you, and  _bam,_ suddenly I'm stuck in what I'm assuming is your headspace. This better be worth seeing whatever screwed up stuff resides in your mind."

Your reply is cut short by the sudden dissolution of all the static around you. You and Dave are floating in a vast swath of space, but you can't make out any reference points - all the constellations are alien to you. And when you look at Dave, you realize he looks different - somehow fourteen or fifteen rather than twenty-nine. And he's wearing clothes that you don't recognize, a red shirt and pants with a gear symbol, and a cape.

He scowls at the clothes. "I was wearing these in the dream, too. Something about a green sun?" He glances at you, and you realize you've gotten the aged-down treatment as well, plus neon orange clothes cut from the same cloth as his. Instead of a gear, you have a little yellow sun.

And the words  _Green Sun_ hit you like a thunderclap.

"Dave."

"Yeah?"

"I think I know where we are. Where we  _were."_

The space bends and shifts around you, and suddenly you're seeing a montage of events not unlike the ones from your dreams. Your younger self, reading from a grimoire that sparks with dark energies. Dave, breaking a sword from stone, wielding it like he was born to. You again, falling to the dark, till another boy -  _John. His name is John -_ comes and promises to deliver you from your evil masters. Dave standing over a man you don't recognize  _(he lives with his bro in Houston, this could only be him)_ his shades angled to hide the twist of emotion on his face. You and John, frozen like a tableau, staring in horror at his dad and your mom sprawled on the checkered ground  _(her name was Roxy too)_ and being too angry to think and suddenly you and Dave are in a purple moon watching the seconds tick by as the world implodes - 

The Green Sun. Godtiering. The meteor. How could you have forgotten?

But if that Earth is gone now, that means that the world that the alternate you was from - 

Ah. The scratch.

And as you look into Dave’s face, you see that he knows too.

“This sucks,” he mutters. “This really really _sucks_.”

“I agree,” you say, despondent. “I… didn’t know. The consequences. I thought the scratch would reset our world the same way it was. I didn’t think…”

You float in silence for a moment. Then Dave smiles thinly.

“You saw them though, didn’t you? With your Sight, in the scratched world. Mom and Bro. Roxy and Dirk.”

Indeed you had. And how strange it felt, to see your mother young like you, and mourn her all over again? But there was too a sense of starting over. That you could be for Roxy what you failed to be for your own mother.

You have only what your Sight has shown you of Roxy. A girl living four hundred years in the future when all else is water and dust. She likes cats, science, and gaming. And wizards. You kind of always assumed she – your mother – was faking her interest. It turns out she was genuine after all. Not for the first time, you feel a stab of guilt.

Dave taps his hand on the table. “Did… did you see Dirk?”

You can’t quite place the emotion on his face. You only know bits and pieces of his life with his bro, what you could piece together from his stilted account. On Dave's end it seemed to consist mainly of daily strifing, Strider style, that usually ended up with him flat on the floor.

You don’t know what to tell him.

“Uh,” you say eloquently. “Well. What do you want to know?”

His poker face really isn’t as good as he thinks. Against the flat blank patented “coolkid face,” any outstanding emotions are easy to pick out. His mouth is set in a line and his eyes are furrowed in a way that makes you think not even he knows how he feels, not really.

"Well. When we get to the next session, he'll be the same age as you, I think. I know he loves robots and rapping. He's a nerd about AI and that kind of stuff. I know he's an awkward mess of a human being, and that he's not much different from you or me." After all, the Strilondes all share the same paradox DNA. You all are screwed up in more or less the same way.

"He's Bro though. Isn't he? Just another version of him."

You tilt your head, considering. "I think... I could see how alternate me was different from this me. And you were somewhat different too. More open, I guess? I think it's the life that makes the person."

He seems reassured, hearing that. "Now why don't we focus on trying to find a way out of this place?"

"Oh, that's not hard, I think. If I'm right, and we've been in a dreambubble all this time, the others have most likely met up by now" (the fairy Dave dreamed about, only it  _wasn't_ a dream, just another bubble, Aradia mentioned bailing someone else out) "then I think our ride should be on its way in a minute or so, or maybe less..."

On cue, there's a creak and a  _rrripping_ noise and suddenly there's a giant tear in space above your heads. You are greeted by a _very_  welcome sight: the meteor flies in like a shot, screeching to a stop around a hundred feet up from you, crackling with psionic energy and ready to leave these bubbles once and for all. 

You can make out Aradia, waving enthusiastically at you both from a tower, Sollux and Terezi, holding hands in a way you recognize as distinctly pale, Karkat, yelling something indistinct but obviously relieved, Kanaya, smiling at you from where she's perched in something akin to a crow's nest. Your heart is full. You love her. You love them all. And you're not just talking about the crew.

You look at Dave. He looks at you. "For friends and family, yeah? We'll see them soon."

"Yeah, we will," you agree.

You go to rejoin your friends.

 

 

_~~~_

_"your wealth is where your friends are"_ -a fortune cookie in Bento's Box in Sacramento, CA 03/18/17

**Author's Note:**

> hoo boy that got much longer than intended...
> 
> if u have questions/feedback, just write em in the comments! im always looking for con-crit, because MAN do i have a long way to go as a writer.
> 
> i wanted to mainly focus on the interactions and the characters, so im sorry if some of the plot feels like a side note! it was never meant to be a very /plotty/ story, so some of the action (example: aradia getting sollux and terezi out of the bubble they were stuck in after they fought the horrorterror) got shunted offscreen. i just thought it was kind of a cool idea and ran with it.


End file.
